


Sunrise to Sunset

by agentcalliope, grapehyasynth



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Emotional, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Gen, Happy, Happy Ending, Love, M/M, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Multi, Perthshire, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, True Love, Wedding Fluff, Wedding Planning, all the brotps, and otps, giant shenanigans, to avoid spoilers, will update tags as chapters are added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 05:13:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6739453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentcalliope/pseuds/agentcalliope, https://archiveofourown.org/users/grapehyasynth/pseuds/grapehyasynth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The clock ticks down as SHIELD and the Secret Warriors prepare for their most important mission yet...</p><p>Location: Latitude: 56.396844 | Longitude: -3.444252</p><p>Mission: Perthshire Wedding<br/> </p><p>Interplanetary crises be damned- they'll do anything until they succeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. T minus 12 Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's another sunrise for two particular lovebirds, but oh, how things have changed...

* * *

 

 

**(6:12AM)**

 

Jemma stops in her slippered shuffle down the pathway, letting the first pink rays of the rising sun wash over her. She closes her eyes indulgently, tilting her head upwards to breathe in the a cool, morning air that whispers around her.

After all, Scotland can be quite windy, even when dawn has hardly broken.

“Shit -- Oh, shit, Jemma, sorry--,” a familiar voice calls out in a stage whisper, breaking the stillness.

Jemma is smiling before she opens her eyes, but then she laughs outright.

He seems so childish, a hand pressed across his eyes and head bowed towards his toes. The other arm is flung out in front of him to prevent the collision that was about to happen. He’s only a few meters away, frozen in place, and if she doesn’t say something he will most certainly stay there covering his face until the sun is high in the sky.

“What on earth are you doing, you silly man?” Her voice lilts with amusement that only grows as he shakes his head side to side.

“Nuh uh. Can’t look at you.”

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms giving him a stern glare.

“I can feel that,” he calls.

“And _why_ can’t you look at me, Fitz?”

He sighs like he’s explaining something to a stubborn child and gestures pointedly with his free hand. “ ‘cause. It’s bad luck to see your bride on the wedding day. _Everyone_ knows that.”

She’ll never tire of hearing those new words, _bride_ and _wedding day_ , and a burst of affection blooms in her chest. But she scoffs and moves forward, attempting to pry up his fingers.

“Fitz, that’s just another old wives’ tale -- you can’t honestly think it has any basis in reality--”

“I hardly think it’s wise for us, of all people, to be tempting fate, Jemma.”

“Fitz,” she says again, stepping even closer so that her breath falls on his face with every word. He licks his lips nervously. “I am marrying my best friend today. And I haven’t seen him since last night, which somehow feels like an eternity. For some reason fate had it that we both, separately, decided to come out to see the last sunrise we’ll spend not as husband and wife. So all I want to do now is look at my future husband in the eyes and share this moment with him. If anything, I think it will make our marriage stronger: the universe, fate, the cosmos -- just let it _try_ and deny us this happiness. Come on, Fitz, you can go back to walking around blindly the whole day if you want after.”

He doesn’t move, but his resolve is obviously weakening. “You promise you won’t get sucked into a portal the minute I open my eyes?”

“Too soon, Fitz.”

He finally lowers the hand and squints against the sunrise as he opens his eyes gingerly.

“See? No calamities,” she teases.

“Yet,” he grumbles, but he wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her close. “Good morning, Doctor Doctor Simmons.”

“Happy wedding day, Doctor Fitz,” she giggles. Then, “Oh! Will that make me Doctor Doctor Doctor Fitz?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, we both know you’re not taking my name. Jemma Fitz? It sounds like a sentence, not a person.

Jemma turns her cheek to press against his shoulder so she can look out across the fields. “I know there are warmer places to get married, more exciting places--”

“But Perthshire seems right.”

Jemma hums her agreement. They spend a few more moments just watching the ascending tip of the sun, chests rising and falling peacefully in tandem, and Jemma thinks of another shared sunrise and how different -- and yet how similar, in the ways that matter -- this feels.

She finally breaks the comfortable silence by nudging him softly until he lowers his gaze to her.

“How long do you think we have to wait before waking the others?” Jemma muses, shifting her slippered toes under his bare ones and resting her chin on his chest to look up at him.  

“Oh, I’m going back to bed,” Fitz snorts. “And no, Doctor Doctor Simmons, you may not join me. That’s where I draw the line. I’ll not defile you with the whole team- and _my mum_ \- just a thin wall away.”

“Defile?! Fitz, that’s--”

“A figure of speech, Jemma.” He leans down and kisses her nose before he moves away and steps back. “Now I best not see you til I’m supposed to. For real this time.”

She pouts at him. “You’re no fun.”

“Time for that later. For now--” He claps his hand back over his eyes. “Where’d Jemma go? She’s up and vanished! I’d better go ask Mack if he’s seen her--”

She laughs as he pretends to stumble sightlessly back into the inn where everyone lies sleeping in their beds. When he is out of sight, a thud and a curse tell her that he has actually tripped over something.

“Silly man,” she whispers, heart full of love and content as she looks back at the rising sun.

Jemma’s certainly satisfied with this sunrise, but she’s even more eager for what's to come with the sunset.


	2. T minus 10 hours (part 1)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's breakfast time and the inn is already bursting with activity.
> 
> And a couple of surprises only add to the excitement.

* * *

**(8:34 AM)**

 

“Make way, make way, for the man of the hour!” Daisy shouts as she scampers down the stairs just ahead of Fitz, who shakes his head at her enthusiasm- a manner that is _entirely_ inappropriate for the early hour. As they enter the kitchen, he gives a mock bow and grins as the table erupts into applause.

Almost everyone is there already. Daisy slides into a seat next to Lincoln; Mack’s head rests on his arms on the table, where he is apparently still trying to sleep; Joey is melting and remolding spoons to the delight of Elena and Joey’s husband Ahmed; and there, wedged between Coulson and May and looking quite comfortable despite the contrast between her homeknit sweater and the rest of the team’s tailored clothing, is Fitz’s own mother. Thankfully, Jemma is nowhere to be found- he can’t risk the bad luck, even _if_ all it is is superstition.

“Thanks, guys, but I’m just gonna grab a bite to take back to my room -- can’t risk seeing J--”

“-- Oh, let it go, Fitz. It’s not like we aren’t already _cursed_ or anything.”

Everyone at the table cheers again as Jemma pops up behind Fitz, wrapping her arms around him and giving him a peck on the cheek. Mack jerks awake at the noise and rubs his eyes blearily, joining in as he sees the cause of the commotion.

Fitz can’t help but immediately screw his eyes shut and groan. “I said it once, Jemma. _Once._ ” But his hands instinctively move to cover hers and he leans back into her embrace.

She giggles into the back of his collar and the sound vibrates pleasantly through his chest.

“Yeah, Jemma,” Daisy’s voice rings out and he opens his eyes to glare at his smug friend, suddenly suspicious of her tone. “He said it _once_ . And _then_ he-” Daisy puckers her lips and makes kissing noises at them.

“ _Daisy!_ ” Fitz croaks, interrupting her and shifting his gaze to his mum.

Maeve Fitz shrugs disinterestedly. “Leo, please. I was young once too, you know. Had my fair share of telling men _‘we’re cursed’_ and then making out with them,” she chortles. "Only it was nothing quite so idiotic. Surprised Jemma would even kiss you after that, honestly. But you know, I’m not some frail old woman who can't handle knowing that her engaged son and his future wife have done the dirty.” She chuckles and nudges Coulson, who looks unsure whether to laugh or shift his chair farther away. “Besides, Jemma already told me about your first kiss.”

Fitz’s jaw drops. Totally forgetting his intention to avoid seeing her, he twists in Jemma’s arms to look at her, though she continues to give an air innocence when she's so obviously _anything but_.

“You told my _mum_ about the -- in the lab--?! _Jemma!_ When?”

She finally drops the act and presents a wicked smile, swiftly giving him a chaste kiss on the lips before answering. “Fitz, it was hardly my doing. You know your mum has a sense for these things. _I_ didn’t tell her anything -- well, not at first. She called me the next day and although I kept insisting that everything was just fine, she wouldn’t relent until I told her everything.”

“Everything?” he whispers, somewhat afraid of her answer.

“ _Everything_ ,” she confirms happily.

He stares at her gobsmacked while the the others laugh. Even before his trip to Maveth, even before their reset, even before _inevitable_ , Jemma had been talking to his mum _about them_.

“Oh Mrs. Fitz, look, he’s blushing,” Mack chuckles from behind them.

“Oh none of that ‘Mrs. Fitz’ nonsense, Mack -- it’s already too confusing. Call me Maeve, please. And if he’s blushing now, I’d imagine he’ll implode when I show everyone his baby pictures later.”

Fitz does indeed feel his ears and face burning, and there’s no doubt in his mind that his mum will _actually_ show every last bit of his childhood pictures- none of which are flattering.

“Hey, lovebirds!” Elena calls. “I’m starving! Pick what you want for breakfast so we can eat!”

The rest of the team responds with loud agreement, and Lincoln stands and steps around his chair, looking to Fitz and Jemma. “I’ll take point. Our treat. What’ll it be?”

They don’t even have to look at each other to know what they’re both thinking -- Being psychically linked has its benefits, of course.

“Pancakes,” Fitz suggests at the same time Jemma speaks, and they share identical goofy smiles.

“You got it!” Lincoln claps his hands together. “Joey, I think you’re a little too volatile near all the pots and pans but you and Ahmed can set out the toppings . Coulson, how’s that hand for flipping? Elena and Mrs. F -- I mean, Maeve, you’re on table-setting duty. May, you can...go pick flowers for the centerpiece or something.”

May glares from her seat and Lincoln seems to lose his train of thought.

“Actually, Lincoln, I think May would be better suited helping me with the table. Elena, dear, why don’t you and Mack get the flowers?” Mrs. Fitz cuts in slyly. “There’s a garden out back that has some lovely roses and lilacs and I know Mack has an eye for beauty, especially since he hasn't take his eyes off you since he opened them this morning.”

Mack is up and out of his seat before they've all finished laughing, and Elena gives Mrs. Fitz a grateful smile before following him outside.

“So Daisy…” Lincoln slowly continues and swivels around to face her.

Daisy crosses her arms, tipping her chair back to glare at Lincoln, though a ghost of a smirk peeks through. “Hey, who died and left _you_ in charge?!”

“Get off your butt and help me then,” he shoots back cheekily.

“So, we've agreed,” Jemma murmurs into Fitz’s ear as Lincoln starts looting through cabinets for the ingredients and Coulson sets out the griddle. “No more of this cosmos nonsense? Because I want to spend this day -- this beautiful, ridiculous day -- with the people we love and not have to dance around each other.”

“You always were smarter than me, Simmons.”

“Only because I love homework so much.”

Fitz doesn’t quite think that’s it, but he’s willing to let it go so he can just enjoy the warmth of her embrace and watch the kitchen erupt into work.

*******

“Ah, shit!” Lincoln swears. “Zapped the pan too hard, I guess--”

Smoke billows from the griddle and he hurriedly scrapes the charred remains of the first few pancakes away.

“Daisy, stop distracting him,” May scolds, propping the front door open to help clear the air.

“Me? I didn’t do anything!”

“Hands to yourselves,” Coulson chides, not for the first time.

“Even if we’re married?” Joey cuts in.

“ _Especially_ if you’re married,” May calls out from her post at the door, paired with a glance that even from across the hallway makes Ahmed immediately retract his hand from the small of Joey’s back.   

“Anyone want some coffee?” Coulson holds up a kettle and scans the kitchen for takers.

“Oh, Phil.” Maeve plants her hands on her lower back in what now appears to be the Fitz family stance and shakes her head in disbelief. “You’re in Scotland, love, and you Americans may prefer your tea bobbing about in the Boston harbor but we take ours-”

“With a shot of something stronger, I hope?” Coulson banters back without hesitation.

“Well that’s just a violation,” a new yet familiar voice says from the open door. “I might just have to take that kettle away from you, Coulson.”

“Hunter, not the priority at the moment.”

“Oh right, love. What I meant to say was: Oi! I heard our favorite nerds were getting married- and without _us_!”

  
The chaos in the kitchen comes to a sudden halt as everyone turns to gape at Bobbi Morse and Lance Hunter, framed dramatically in the doorway with grins plastered across their faces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to all-i-could-think-about-was-you for helping two silly Americans with Scottish slang!
> 
> Find us on Tumblr! We're fitzsimmonsgarbage and grapehyasynth over there!


	3. T Minus 10 Hours (Part 2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Huntingbird!!!

* * *

**(8:57 AM)**

The effect of their entrance is clearly not what Hunter had hoped for. Everyone seems too shocked to respond, mouths hanging open but not moving. After several seconds he deflates a bit, relinquishing his dramatic pose.

“Nothing? Seriously? We’ve risked certain _death_ to be here for you ingrates.”

Bobbi rolls her eyes in exasperation. “Hunter, we literally got on a plane and then took a taxi like normal people. Besides, they clearly weren’t expecting us.”

“Well then why aren’t they jumping into our arms?” Hunter gestures towards the still-frozen group as the tea kettle begins to whistle and nobody even budges to turn it off.

“Probably because of your big--”

“Brain? Muscles? Or the _other thing_?” Hunter cuts in, indiscreetly waggling his eyebrows.

Bobbi’s eyes narrow -- but before she can reply Lincoln laughs and the sound breaks the paused tableau. The team suddenly springs into action with laughter and the sound of scraping chairs and clattering dishes being left on counters as they all surge forward simultaneously, crowding around the pair and taking turns embracing them. Bobbi ruffles Fitz’s hair and Hunter releases Jemma from a crushing hug as Daisy herds them all further into the kitchen.

“Guys! You’ve missed so much!” she exclaims as she bounces on her toes between them, her arms across both their shoulders. “Joey got _married_ and Coulson let me drive Lola and--”

“Hang on, how did you even know _we_ were getting married?” Fitz asks. He glances at Coulson. “Sir--”

“Don’t look at me,” Coulson replies with a small smile and raises his hands in defense.

“It was May,” Bobbi explains fondly from where she’s shaking Ahmed’s hand and introducing herself.

“Where is our beacon of sunshine and nonviolence, anyway?” Hunter wonders, a layer of sarcasm barely hiding affection as he scans for her face.

In the clamor, no one had noticed May slip out the door behind them. Of course the moment they notice her missing, she’s back just as stealthily, coming through the door and saying to someone over her shoulder, “Look who turned up.”

And then Mack’s there, in the doorway, blocking most of the light with his massive frame. Bobbi extracts herself from Daisy’s grip to see what everyone is looking at and she meets her old partner’s gaze.

“Long time no see, Barbara,” Mack says with a smile, but he’s blinking too quickly and his chin begins to quiver. Bobbi laughs but she’s crying too and she steps forward to hug him tightly.

“Don’t start with that again,” Bobbi groans, shaking her head against his shoulder. As she pulls back and the old friends beam at each other, Jemma understands that May has brought Bobbi and Hunter back as much for Mack as for the wedding itself.

“And what’ve you been up to?” Mack asks, his voice cracking a bit before he clears his throat.

“Oh, you know, evading governments, dodging tails, the usual. You know what I could really go for right now? A--”

“Good to see you too, Mack. Can see you were really torn up with missing me!” Hunter calls.

“That is the second time in five minutes he’s interrupted me,” Bobbi complains to no one in particular.

Jemma nods in agreement. “He could at least finish your sentences, because--”

“That at least would be helpful,” Fitz concurs.

“Show-offs,” Hunter mumbles before he catches a glimpse of Elena, peeking around Mack with her arms filled with flowers for the table. “Oh hello, they’ve kept you on, then?”

“It’s been a long time, Hunter, Bobbi,” she says formally but with a shy smile, squeezing around Mack to shake Hunter’s hand.

He leans forward and says to her conspiratorially, “You and Mack together yet or what?”

“Ooh, I like this one,” Mrs. Fitz chortles, patting Hunter’s arm. “Stick close to me, dear.”

“And who are you?” Hunter demands, his voice climbing several octaves as he jumps away.

“That’s my mum, you miscreant, so watch your tone,” Fitz calls from where he's entirely disappeared behind the towering Mack and Bobbi.

“You’re--” Jemma can almost hear Hunter’s brain short-circuiting. “That is, you and Fitz--” His eyes widen and he rubs his hands together. “This is the start of a beautiful friendship, Mrs. Fitz.”

“Told you they’d want to see the baby pictures,” Mrs. Fitz says smugly to Coulson.

“Alright, give them some room to breathe,” May scolds. She’s watching from the doorway still, and when Jemma meets her eyes and tries to fill her glance with as much gratitude as she can muster, May just nods.

“We got pancakes, bacon, eggs, some weird green jelly thing--” Lincoln lists off, surveying the mess they’d been in the midst of creating before the diversion.

Jemma points Hunter to a seat. “We made twice as much food as we expected to eat so there should be enough for you.” She sits beside him while Fitz takes the chair opposite.

Hunter shovels food onto his plate without any further encouragement. “I have to say,” he remarks to Jemma around a bite of bacon, “I was a bit peeved by your choice of timing for this whole affair. This would’ve been prime vacation time and I thought about finally taking Bobbi somewhere sunny and so safe it’ll be so boring, and we could spend our days lounging on the sand drinking fruity cocktails and our nights -- well, that’s between Bob and I. But seriously, why August 29th? May kept dropping hints that it was important.”

Fitz grins at Jemma. “I don’t think we should tell him, Jem. He’ll just think it’s sappy.”

“Too late, mate, I already know you two are out of your minds.” Hunter’s head swivels between them. “Out with it!”

“August 29th is the date exactly halfway between our birthdays.” Jemma reaches across the table to take Fitz’s hand.

Hunter chokes on his next bite and looks up in surprise. “Oh. That’s...actually beautiful.”

“It also happens to be the day we first met at the Academy. Meeting in the middle, if you will,” Fitz adds.

Hunter stops chewing completely and glances from one to the other. They seem to have forgotten entirely that he is there, looking at each other with blatant adoration, their fingers twining and tangling absentmindedly.

“Sorry, I just--” Hunter grabs his napkin from his lap. “I must’ve -- something in my eye -- I’ll just run to the loo and wash it out--”

He stands up quickly from the table, barely hiding his real, ugly sobs with the paper napkin as he hurries away in the wrong direction. Bobbi snorts and takes his empty seat, resting her chin on her palm and gazing at Jemma and Fitz with sparkling eyes.

“God, it’s good to be back,” she grins.

Hunter reappears and Jemma stifles a snort at the redness around his eyes. It’s sweet, truly, but it’s still Hunter and when he’s not so emotionally fragile she’ll make sure he never lives this moment down.

“Didn’t really need the loo after all. Anyway-- what’s the plan for the day?” he asks, leaning on the back of Bobbi’s chair. “What do we have to do to make our dreams -- your dreams,” he corrects quickly, as Fitz and Jemma stare at him, “your dreams, come true?”

“Well…” Fitz begins.

“Uh-uh,” Daisy cuts in with a devilish grin. “We’ve got this one.”


	4. T Minus 9 Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mack and Daisy whisk the bride and groom (and everyone else) away for some quality bonding time before the wedding. Friendships will be tested...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we're baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaack

* * *

 

**(9:42 AM)**

 

_“Uh-uh,” Daisy cuts in with a devilish grin. “We’ve got this one.”_

 “As best bro and maid of shenanigans,” Daisy intones, gesturing between herself and Mack, “we have taken it upon ourselves to provide some quality distractions for you two today.”

 “But there’s so much to do--” Jemma frets.

 “--Which is exactly why you don’t need to be here,” Mack assures her, resting a hand on her shoulder. “You’ll just stress the whole time.”

 “And honestly, you’d just get in the way of the people who are literally being paid to set everything up,” Daisy concurs.

 “So we’ve decided that, instead, Daisy will take Jemma out for facials with Bobbi, YoYo, May, and Mrs. Fitz -- I mean, Maeve--” Mack points to each of them in turn.

 “While Mack, Joey, Coulson, Lincoln, Ahmed, and Hunter are going with Fitz to smoke cigars and play football or whatever it is men do when they’re left alone,” Daisy concludes, waving her hand melodramatically.

 “It’ll be fun, you’ll get your nervous energy out, and everyone will be relaxed afterwards.” It certainly does sound soothing when Mack says it.

 “Facials?” Jemma mutters to Fitz as everyone stands, arguing just like a family at Christmas over who gets to use the bathroom first and who has to clean the dishes. Even through her discontent at the proposed itinerary, Jemma feels a tingle in her chest, seeing this massive gathering of people here just to celebrate her and Fitz.

 “Want to trade?” Fitz grumbles back. “Honestly, football? They might as well castrate me.”

 She blinks out of her thoughts and snorts, hugging him from the side. “We knew this day wasn’t entirely about us, though.”

 “Yeah.” He kisses her hairline. “That’s what tonight is for.”

 She opens her mouth to ask whether he means the ceremony or the ... _after_ , but Daisy grabs her hand and yanks her away.

 No matter, Jemma concludes as she’s soon besides Mrs. Fitz in the front seat of a car, there’ll be plenty of time for that particular conversation (if talking is necessary at that point) later.

 The car stops abruptly, and Jemma realizes she’s totally missed the entire drive. Except they’re parked in the middle of a patch of mowed grass next to a forest with no spa, or any building, in sight.

 “Have we run out of petrol?” Maeve asks Daisy, eyebrows knotted and a slight frown tugging at her lips.

 “Why would you say that?” Daisy’s texting furiously on her phone.

 “Are we lost, Daisy?” May interjects, leaning forward and inserting herself between Maeve and Jemma to look closer at the GPS system.

 They all turn at stare at Daisy. Jemma’s trying not to panic but she can tell that no one has any idea what’s going on. Beside her, Maeve squeezes her elbow in silent support.

 “It’s, uh, an all-natural spa?” Daisy suggests, wide-eyed. “Seriously, guys, don’t worry about it. I’ve got it covered. This is just a little detour.”

 Daisy unlocks the car door and gets out.

 Before any of them can follow, another car rattles up. Jemma recognizes the black van and scrambles to get out.

 “Fitz?” she asks incredulously the same moment he jumps out the car and double-takes at the sight of her. “Is this where you’re playing football? I don’t see any goalposts--”

 “Doesn’t exactly look like a spa either.” He squints up and down the field. “Unless you’re planning on doing mudbaths?”

 “Surprise!” Daisy cheers and pops up from behind Jemma’s van, everyone else piling out of their respective cars. “There are no facials!”

 “And definitely no cigars,” Mack adds. “That stuff kills.”

 “We knew you two wouldn’t want to spend a minute away from each other. Besides, how often do we all get to spend time just hanging out?”

 “So instead of all that or some traditional crap, we’re gonna be doing some...” Mack pauses dramatically, grabbing hold of one of the handles of the back door of the van while Daisy takes the other.

 “Paintball!!!!!!!” they shout together, flinging the doors open to reveal vests, guns, and changes of shoes and clothes for everyone there.

 “They’re such drama queens,” Ahmed whispers to Joey as everyone else laughs and cheers.

 Joey snorts and nods. “You have _no_ idea.”

 “For one afternoon only,” Daisy continues, “forget everything you value. Leave your friendships behind. They don’t matter anymore.”

 “Once partners--” Mack looks to Daisy, then away. “Now enemies.”

 “Oh my god,” Ahmed whispers again, smothering a laugh by hiding his face in Joey’s shoulder.

 “So… what are the teams?” Elena suspiciously questions as Daisy heaves a huge bundle of equipment into her arms.

 “SciTech vs. Operations?” Jemma asks hopefully.

 “Too many of us didn’t go through that system,” Daisy points out. “And is that _really_ the delineation you’d want to go with for an all-out mock battle, Jemma?”

 “Ladies against gents, then?” Ahmed suggests.

 “I was just doing the math, there are eight of us and six of you,” Fitz notes. “Not exactly balanced.”

 “And I’m certainly not running around with you youngsters,” Maeve adds. “Don’t include me in the calculations.”

 “I could switch sides,” Lincoln offers, stepping forward. “I don’t mind.” He lowers his voice and whispers to Daisy, though everyone can hear him, “Are we doing this by allegiance? I’m still not really sure whether I’m in Fitz’s or Jemma’s entourage,” he admits anxiously. “Who am I better friends with?”

 “It’s not like that,” Daisy snorts. “They’re a package deal, you don’t choose one or the other.”

 “And thanks for offering, but we don’t need any help,” May cuts in coolly. “Ass-kicking is more a matter of quality than quantity.”

 Hunter’s looking at Bobbi rather worriedly. “Yeah, lads, I’m rather afraid for our lives, to be honest.”

 Bobbi winks and blows him a kiss. Hunter gulps.

 “Alright, ground rules,” Mack calls out, stepping between the two teams and clapping his hands.

 “I’m thinking no-holds-barred free-for-all,” Coulson counters.

 “Nuh-uh, no inhuman abilities,” Hunter reminds him. “Can’t imagine the havoc those two would wreak.” He waves at Daisy and Elena.

 “Hey!” Joey says, leaning around Ahmed. “Lincoln and I could’ve been an asset to our team.”

 “No inhuman abilities,” Mack affirms. “Level playing field.”

 “Wait. What about Jemma?” Elena queries. “We wouldn’t want her to be covered in bruises for her wedding.”

 “Then tell Fitz to stop giving her hickies,” Daisy teases.

 “Ay-yo!” Bobbi laughs, high-fiving Daisy.

 “Is that a thing we should be worried about?” Fitz cuts in loudly before anyone else can say anything, blushing. “The bruises, not the, uh, hickies.”

 “I don’t want special treatment,” Jemma adds, carefully not looking at her mother-in-law amidst all of this conversation about Fitz’s intense ministrations to her neck. “You’d only hold it against us later, claiming you let us win for my sake.”

 “I’m trying to help!” Fitz squeaks. Jemma rolls her eyes.

 “Actually, even if you do get bruised, I can help cover that up,” Lincoln offers. “With a little cream foundation and some powder it would be super easy to cover. Your shade is Ivory, right? I’m sure I have that.” He notices everyone staring and shrugs. “I, uh, actually really like doing people’s makeup. You think Daisy does her perfect eyeliner _herself?_ ”

 “I’m shooting you first,” Daisy promises, but she pulls him in for a firm kiss before sending him back to the boys’ team with a push.

 “Seeing no further rules,” Mack continues, trying to bring order back to the proceedings, “the next order of business is to choose a prize. Obviously the winning team gets the glory of proving once and for all that their gender is superior--”

 “Gender is a social construct and is more of a fluid spectrum anyway!” Jemma chimes in.

 “Noted,” Mack acknowledges. “Please let it be remembered that we are operating within a very limited conception of a gender binary for the purposes of this game. There should be an individual prize for the last person standing, though.”

 “Winner gets to chaperone Fitzsimmons on their wedding night!” Hunter cries.

 Amidst the titters that follow, Fitz blushes furiously again and tries to get a word out while Jemma demands, “So you’re assuming neither Fitz ,nor I, will be victorious? Our skills have drastically improved since you saw us last, Hunter--”

 “Their _skills_ have _improved_ \-- I know what she means by that!” Hunter laughs, throwing up a hand for a high-five from Joey and Ahmed, who just give him blank stares.

 Maeve, meanwhile, has somehow snuck her way over to the boys’ team and pops up next to Fitz. “I take it back, I want to play after all. From what I hear, these two do need a chaperone. Hickies, Leopold, really?”

 Fitz looks like he wants the ground to just open up up and swallow him whole.

 “Only joking,” she chuckles, patting him on the shoulder. “But you should’ve seen your faces.”

 “I’ve got a prize,” Coulson says suddenly. “Director, with your permission--?” May nods, smiling slightly as she obviously knows exactly what he’s planning. “S.H.I.E.L.D. has been building a new base. The winner of today’s battle gets naming rights.”

 “Whaaaaaat??! That’s so dope!” Daisy exclaims.

 “Okay, stakes have just been majorly raised,” agrees Joey.

 “I love Fitz, but we can’t let him win or we’ll have another Night-Night Gun situation on our hands,” Jemma says to May, and they both roll their eyes at the thought.

 “That’s not all!” Coulson shouts over everyone’s excitement. “Winner also gets first claim on bunk assignments in the new base.”

 “I’m not sure that’s entirely fair, sir. Ahmed doesn’t really have a stake in that,” Mack points out.

 “He can give his bunk-selection rights to me,” Joey suggests.

 “What about Bobbi and Hunter? They’re not getting bunks.”   

 “Weeeeelllll...” Hunter exchanges a look with his better half.

 “That’s not _exactly_ true,” Bobbi finishes for him.

 May and Coulson are the only ones who don’t spin on them both in surprise.

 “Are you coming back?!” Jemma almost screams, tackling Bobbi. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

 “Didn’t want to steal your thunder, did we?” Hunter laughs, fighting off Fitz and Mack, who’ve bowled him over.

 “But that’s the best wedding present ever! How can you even--”

 “Director May was able to pull some strings,” Bobbi says simply. They all nod -- no further explanation needed.

 “Best Director ever,” Mack whispers to May so that Coulson won’t hear.

 “The point is,” Coulson says, once everyone’s settled down a bit, though Jemma and Daisy are still hugging Bobbi from either side, “everyone’s got a stake in this game. Agreed?”

 They all murmur their approval and the teams move to separate more clearly, with Mack stepping out of his role as mediator and heading back to the line of men while Maeve heads off to a spectator’s bench at the edge of the woods.

 There’s only five minutes before the battle begins.

 Daisy, as maid of shenanigans, appoints herself team leader for the women. “Huddle up, everyone! We gotta talk strategy.”

 As they strap on their gear and test the weight of their weapons, Bobbi and May outline the relative strengths and weaknesses of each member of the men’s team.

 “Fortunately, we’ve got five trained S.H.I.E.L.D. agents,” Bobbi notes once they’ve finished their formal analysis. “Ahmed’s a civilian, and Hunter can be barely called an agent--”

 “Mack hates violence,” Elena chuckles. “He’s an easy out.”

 “Lincoln’s not used to fighting without his powers, I can’t imagine him being very difficult to fake out,” Daisy adds.

 “Joey’s kind of a dark horse here,” May muses, helping Elena with a strap on her vest. “We’ve seen him fight with his powers but not without.”

 “Fitz shouldn’t be an issue, I’m guessing?” Bobbi asks Jemma.

 She smirks rather proudly, hoisting her gun. “Actually, Bobbi, Fitz has turned into quite the field agent since you two left.”

 “She’s exaggerating,” Daisy cuts in. She softens at Jemma’s hurt look and amends, “Okay, yes, he’s better, but Jemma’s the only one who finds it impressive. And hot, but that’s just incomprehensible. Fitz is still a lab rat at heart. So I’m guessing we’re pegging Coulson as the main threat?”

 Before anyone can respond, Maeve’s voice rings loud and clear. “One minute! Best start to prepare now!”

 Daisy nods, and extends one hand into the middle of the huddle.

 “Okay team we got this. I believe in us, and our sex. Let’s stick it to the men! On the count of three, ‘Go Team Boobs!’

 “Daisy, we’re not calling--”

 “One--”

 “Daisy, as your director and SO--”

 “Two--”

 “I _order_ you to--”

 “Three!”

 “GO TEAM BOOBS!” Daisy and Elena shout together, grinning and throwing their hands into the air as May sighs. Bobbi and Jemma laugh at their friends’ zeal and chime in slightly late.

 “Go team boobs,” May mutters, for she is nothing if not a team player.

 The girls head off to their side of the woods, but they turn to stare as Hunter’s voice rings out.

 “GO TEAM PE---”

 Mack claps a hand on Hunter’s mouth in the nick of time, waving at the girls nonchalantly with his free hand before dragging Hunter away.

 

***

 

Contrary to all expectations, Coulson is the first one eliminated. He’s hiding behind a tree, waiting until he could get a better shot on Daisy when he sees Ahmed aiming at May, who is following the sounds of Lincoln and Hunter through the woods.

 Even though they’d agreed that May should be the first member of the women’s team to be taken out, instinct kicks in and when he watches Ahmed pull the trigger, Coulson doesn’t hesitate to throw himself in front of her, taking the shot straight to the chest.

 The blow knocks him backward, sending both him and May to the ground.

 “Seriously, Phil?” she yells from under him. “We’re on opposite teams!”

 “I...forgot?”

 He looks up to see that several other agents have gathered and are watching them with small smirks.

 “Would you believe that I was just trying to protect the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.?” he asks sheepishly.

 “Not even for a second,” Hunter chirps, grinning like the Cheshire cat, before they all return to the fray.

 “I don’t regret it, though,” Coulson says to May as he helps her up. She watches him limp off to sit with Maeve, and nobody sees her smiling slightly to herself.

 His sacrifice ends up meaning very little in the calculus of the game, however, as she’s still the primary target for the other side. Not long after Coulson’s heroic martyrdom, the rest of the boys surround May and fire simultaneously, hitting her about a dozen times in the chest and back. She drops her gun, looking as livid as is possible while her face still remains motionless.

 “Very sportsmanlike,” she snaps.

 “Dead men tell no tales!” Hunter chirps. “Technically you’re dead, so I can’t hear you.” She makes as if to pick up her gun and shoot him, rules be damned, but he runs away and she glares accusingly at the rest before heading to the bleachers.

 “I think we’re going to have to watch our backs around Director May for a few weeks, Turbo,” Mack mutters to Fitz as they stalk away, back-to-back, eyes peeled for the remaining four women.

 Ahmed is next. Joey did the best he could to protect his husband, but at the end of the day, Ahmed really stands no chance against _actual_ secret agents, and Bobbi picks him off quite easily with a single paintball to his right leg.

 Daisy nearly takes Fitz out, but he turns suddenly as the paintball hits his chest, and it careens away unbroken.

 “Did you see that?” he asks Mack and Joey excitedly. “I used _physics_ to deflect it at the right angle--”

 “How are you still alive?” Joey demands, incredulous.

 “In the game? Or--”

 “No, in general, man.”

 “Jemma,” Mack supplies simply.

 Fitz looks like he’s about to protest, but then he shrugs and nods. It’s impossible to deny.

 Jemma takes out Joey, rather accidentally as she aims for Mack. She actually apologizes to him and almost gets shot for her trouble as Mack attempts to chase her down.

 Lincoln, meanwhile, has been following Elena at a safe distance. They’ve trained a great deal together over the last two years, sometimes operating as partners out in the field, so he knows enough about her style of fighting when she’s not using her powers.

 “Hey, Lincoln, mate--” It’s Hunter. He creeps up alongside Lincoln and grabs his wrist. “What’s with those two, by the way? Mack and Elena? Weren’t they, like, about to do the do when Bob and I cut out two years ago?”

 “Yeah, well, Elena’s superspeedy in some ways and pretty slow in others,” Lincoln jokes. “I think Mack might die before she realizes he’s into her--”

 “Hey, Sparky!” a voice calls. They both turn, and a ball hits Lincoln square in the chest with a loud _thwap_. He falls back against a tree, gaping at Elena and paint splattering his chestplate.

 “Sorry, mate!” Hunter yelps, dashing away before he meets the same fate.

 “You were saying?” Elena demands, standing over Lincoln and nudging his gun with the tip of her boot.

 “YoYo, I was just--”

 “Only Mack calls me YoYo,” she corrects him, but as she turns away he sees her smiling.

 He really wanted to win, but at least it isn’t Daisy who got to shoot him.

 Besides, being eliminated means he gets to go sit with Fitz’s mom and scheme more match-making, so it’s not a total loss.

 Hunter bursts into a clearing at the same time as Bobbi and just barely gets the draw on her, hitting her with a paintball and dodging hers. As he lunges out of the way of her shot, though, he doesn’t see that his ball didn’t explode. There are splatters on the edge of her vest from Ahmed’s elimination, though, and when Hunter rolls back onto his feet, he assumes they’re from his shot.

 “Bob, you’re out,” he pants, striding towards her victoriously.

 “What are you talking about, Hunter?” She glances down at her vest. “These are old. Splashback from someone else’s explosion. Look, they’re dried.”

 “Then you were already out!” he insists. “The rules state--”

 “What rules? There was literally one rule and unless you’ve recently gained some powers--”

 “But I hit you!”

 “And it didn’t explode. That’s like Paintball 101, Hunter. Keep up.”

 “Don’t do that condescending tone with me!”

 “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Daisy groans as she emerges from a bush where she’s been watching them argue. She shoots Hunter easily in the chest. “You two are such a liability. That was for Trip, by the way. As I understand it, he never got a chance to pay you back for the time you shot him.”

 Fitz steps out from behind a tree as well and picks off Bobbi. “Seriously, they can probably hear you two arguing in Bucharest.” In the same sweep of his gun, he hits an unsuspecting Daisy.

 “Damn it,” she sighs, looking down at the pink splatter on her chest before casting a sly grin at Fitz. “That’s very specific, _Leopold._ Bucharest? I feel like Mack mentioned that as well. Anything… _significant_ happen there? Like ‘The Big Bang’?”

 “Shut up, Daisy.”

 “Daisy, what’s happeni--” Jemma calls, running up to her from the deeper parts of the forest. She sees Fitz and pales. They both hesitate for a second, then Jemma cocks her head to the side, smiling up at him through her eyelashes. “Are you strong enough to live in a paintball battle that doesn’t have me in it, Fitz?”

 He laughs. “We both know I don’t deserve to name that base. Besides, it’s quite a strange feeling, isn’t it, never wanting to be without someone who’s currently hunting you down in a forest in Scotland, aiming to take you out.”

 “Together, then?”

 They shoot each other simultaneously, ignoring Daisy’s loud groans and Hunter and Bobbi’s catcalls and shouts about how ridiculously adorable and unnecessarily dramatic they are. They drop their guns and Fitz loops his arm around Jemma’s waist, leading her out of the forest ahead of the other eliminated parties.

 Mack and Elena each separately work their way to the edge of the forest near the spectator stands, where they count the people seated there and realize they are the last two.

 “YoYo!” Mack calls, knowing she must be close. “Just you and me, now, huh?”

 “Didn’t think you had it in you!” she yells back. “What did you do, just take a nap until everyone else was out?”

 He laughs. “Hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

 There’s a moment of silence as they both consider how to approach the situation.

 “I’m coming out,” Mack says loudly. “Hold off for a minute, okay? Let’s just talk.”

 He emerges from the treeline, hands up, gun hanging loosely from one hand.

 Elena waits a moment, watching as the rest of the team, obviously confused, moves closer and forms a semi-circle around Mack, before she steps out as well.

 “Hey,” Mack says softly, one corner of his mouth quirking up. “Look at us, huh? We did pretty good.”

 “Okay, stop flirting and shoot each other already,” Hunter impatiently calls out.

 “What did you want to talk about?” Elena asks calmly.

 “I suggest a truce,” Mack proposes. “What’s to say we can’t _both_ name the base?”

 “Are you going to share a bunk too?” Lincoln interrupts, deadpan. “As I recall there was only one bunk mentioned in the initial discussion--”

 “That’s why he really wants the truce, isn’t it?” Maeve agrees, nodding at Lincoln.

 “There’s no need for us to resort to violence at this point,” Mack continues as if he hasn’t heard them. “Let’s call it even. We’ve all had fun today.”

 Elena tilts her head, considering.

 “What do you say, YoYo?” he murmurs, stepping towards her. Even Maeve and Lincoln get a little breathless, seeing how Mack and Elena are gazing at each other.

 Elena finally nods. “Keep the faith, Alphonso Mackenzie.”

 Mack grins and bends forward to set his gun on the ground. As he straightens, Elena casually raises her own weapon and shoots him straight in the chest.

 “Sorry, Mack,” she says amongst the groans of the men. “I don’t care about the prize, but as you Americans say, ‘girls rule, boys drool’.”

 Jemma, Bobbi, and Daisy erupt into cheers, swarming Elena and engulfing her in hugs. May crosses her arms, attempting to look stern at the foul play, but even she seems pretty pleased.

 Mack touches the paint on his vest and sighs, then shakes his head and chuckles, grinning at her almost proudly. “You know what, YoYo, you can shoot me anyday.”

 “He did nooooot just say that!” Hunter laughs, leaning against Mrs. Fitz for support.

“I imagine Mack will be doing some shooting of Miss Elena soon,” Maeve replies saucily. “With his own little gun, if you know what I mean.”

 At this point Lincoln and Hunter are gone, collapsed on the ground, wracked with giggles.

 “How is this your mom?” Daisy, wiping away tears of laughter, asks Fitz, who is bright red. “You’re such a prude and she’s so--”

 “Wildly inappropriate!” Fitz squeaks.

 “Best day ever,” Hunter sighs, gazing up at them all, unable to move because his abs are so sore from laughing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol this is one giant crackfic <3 
> 
> find us on tumblr! we're agentcalliope and grapehyasynth


	5. T minus 6 hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In true Fitzsimmons fashion, Fitz and Jemma freak out over their vows- but, as always, the team's got their backs.

**(12:30PM)**

 

Underneath the steady stream of water, Fitz allows the tranquility to wash over him as he closes his eyes and rinses the last remnants of his shampoo off his head. Grinning a bit as he squeezes out the conditioner onto the palm of his hand, Fitz realizes that this is his last shower being engaged, and soon he’s going to be married.

 

_ Married. _

 

He doesn’t get a chance to reminisce further because suddenly someone’s banging on the door, breaking his focus. Daisy’s voice climbs over the noise of the shower, and the frustration in her tone makes Fitz fear that if he doesn’t answer she might quake the door down.

 

“Daisy, I’m in the shower!” he shouts.

 

“Yeah, I noticed!” she calls back, and he turns off the water so he can hear better. “This isn’t some holiday spa, okay??  _ Some _ of us have a wedding to attend to later and need to shower! I’m going to go back to my room, and when I come back in five minutes I’m coming in whether you’re done or  _ not!”  _

 

She stomps away, and Fitz looks down at the blob of conditioner still on his hand. 

 

Five minutes, Daisy said. Well, challenge accepted.

 

He’s clearly succeeded because when he leaves the bathroom there’s no one in sight, and he’s a bit relieved because he forgot to bring clothes to change with him. If he can just hurry down the hall before anyone has a chance to comment on his pale chest--

 

“Fitz!” 

 

He whirls, clutching the place where his towel is tucked. “Jemma!” 

 

She practically saunters down the hallway towards him, grinning and toweling her hair. She’s already changed into a pair of leggings and a T-shirt, which feels unfairly overdressed, with the way her eyes slide over him. Just because he’s marrying her doesn’t mean he’s used to her ability to undress him with her eyes (though in this instance that’s hardly necessary). 

 

“Don’t you look dashing,” she teases. 

 

He blushes but hooks his thumbs into the towel. “Think I should just stay like this for the wedding?” 

 

“Definitely. Or better yet...” She leans forward and tries to grab the towel to yank it away. 

 

“Hey!” He steps back just in time, darting a glance left and right. “There are  _ people _ , Jemma. My  _ mother _ is here!” 

 

She just grins cheekily and continues drying her hair. 

 

“Where are you off to?” He leans against the wall, thinking that this almost feels like he’s at the Academy living out unfulfilled expectations of chatting up cute girls when they pass in the hallway. All in all he’s pretty pleased with how things turned out anyway. 

 

“Headed back to my room,” she explains. “Thought I’d run over my vows again.” 

 

“Ah yes, the vows,” Fitz nods, though inside he’s panicking. “Speaking our innermost feelings in front of everyone we know.” 

 

“They’re supposed to be quite romantic.” Jemma raises her eyebrows. “Think you can handle it?” 

 

“Handle it? Jemma, please,” he scoffs. “I’m the  _ king _ of romantic.” 

 

“Well,  _ I’ve _ read quite a bit of poetry, and I’m planning on incorporating that into  _ my  _ vows.” 

 

“My vows will have everyone in the audience weeping,” Fitz shoots back. 

 

“ _ My  _ vows will make  _ your  _ vows look like an ingredient list on a packet of biscuits,” Jemma smirks, stepping towards him. 

 

“My vows are so romantic, you’ll want to leave me and marry  _ them _ !” 

 

Jemma crinkles her nose. “That’s what you’re going with?” 

 

“Yeah, that might not work out so well in my favor,” Fitz muses, scratching his ear. 

 

“Well, I’d best be off -- the sooner I check my vows for grammatical errors, the sooner I can take a quick nap.” Jemma stands on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek, taking another pass at his towel as she does so. He chuckles and half-heartedly pushes her away. 

 

“We both know there won’t be any grammatical errors!” he calls after her. 

 

The second Jemma is out of sight, Fitz hurries down the hallway and is about to turn into his own room when he sees May coming down the stairs at the end of the hall. 

 

“May!” he hisses desperately, knowing she could decapitate him with just her thumb (probably) but nonetheless running towards her as best he can without losing his towel. “May, I need your help! The wedding’s hours away and I still haven’t written my vows--” 

 

She halts on the landing, staring at him. “And you’re telling me this because...” 

 

“Jemma’s convinced her vows are going to be more romantic than mine which normally wouldn’t be a problem as she’s too  _ analytical  _ to be romantic, in the classic, spontaneous way, but she’s probably been working on her vows for  _ weeks _ and they’re sure to be perfect and she’s a  _ slightly  _ better writer than I am--” He trails off, looking miserably at the ceiling. “I’ve been trying for weeks but nothing I write seems good enough.” 

 

May looks like she’s smelled a skunk and she glances down the staircase longingly. Then she closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and turns to face him. 

 

“Fitz. Put some pants on, then we can talk.” 

 

“I think by pants you mean  _ trousers _ , Agent May -- though actually you probably want me to put both on--” He notices the look she’s giving him and says faintly, “Right. I’ll just be a moment.” 

 

He runs into his room, toweling off as quickly as he can and pulling on a pair of boxers and jeans and the first shirt he sees before opening the door. May is leaning against the wall on the other side of the hall. Fitz glances left to right covertly, making sure there aren’t any prying eyes or ears, then motions for her to come in. She rolls her eyes and follows him. 

 

“Have a seat -- uh, somewhere,” he mutters, dashing around to pull dirty clothes and towels off of his desk chair and bed. 

 

“I’m fine standing.” She crosses her arms and watches him putter. “So what’s the problem?” 

 

Fitz collapses onto the edge of the bed, fiddling with the hem of his T-shirt. “Tonight I’m supposed to stand in front of all of you and explain why Jemma’s so amazing and why I’m so excited to be spending our lives together and every time I try--” He throws his hands up. “Nothing. Or everything’s a cliché. What hasn’t been said before?” 

 

May considers him for a moment, then strides forward to sit next to him. He looks at her, surprised, as the bed dips. 

 

“Leo--” They both scrunch their noses and May shakes her head. That  _ definitely _ doesn’t sound right. “ _ Fitz _ . Vows, they’re a formality. You and Jemma, you’ve been saying all of those things already.” 

 

Fitz groans. “Except we haven’t, May! Yes, we’ve gotten much better at the whole  _ talking  _ thing, but we’re both more physical beings--” 

 

“Stop.”

 

“I just mean that we spent so much time  _ not _ talking that the words aren’t the easiest part of our relationship. And I wanted to use these vows to finally say all the things I should have been saying for years.” 

 

May speaks slowly, deliberately, though whether that’s because she’s collecting her thoughts or allowing him to keep up, Fitz isn’t sure. “If what you’re afraid of is not saying the right thing, or not saying enough, you need to let go of that. As I see it, you two have spent most of your relationship only getting to say the things that mattered when you didn’t have time to say them properly.” 

 

Fitz nods slowly, thinking that she’s more right than she can ever know. At the bottom of the ocean, as one of them goes off to war, pretty much whenever life is too complicated to allow them a moment’s peace. 

 

“But that’s not what today is about. Today is you two saying, look, we have all the time in the world. So when you say your vows to Jemma, you’re not trying to say everything that needs to be said. You have a lifetime to spend saying that. Just imagine yourself talking to Jemma -- forget about the rest of us -- and tell her how you feel in that moment.” 

 

Fitz glances up at May with a crooked smile. “Can you write my vows? That was beautiful.” 

 

“Don’t be stupid, I’m not writing them for you.” She stands, the moment broken. “Did that help, though?” 

 

Before he can think it through -- because thinking it through would definitely mean not doing it -- Fitz stands and inches towards her. She watches him warily but doesn’t resist as he wraps his arms around her carefully, hugging her around the middle. “That was exactly what I needed, May, thank you.” 

 

She pats his back a bit awkwardly but she doesn’t let go until he pulls away. “You’re welcome,” she mutters, but Fitz is sure she’s smiling as she leaves the room. 

  
  
  


Jemma maintains her smile until her back is turned to Fitz, when she allows herself to panic. Fanning her face, Jemma quickly walks back to her room, but she’s only just inside the door before she finds herself halting and lost in thought.

 

She wonders… yes. Yes, he would be  _ very _ helpful in this situation.

 

Jemma darts to the staircase, climbing up the stairs two steps at a time towards Mack’s room.

 

“Mack?”

 

The door opens, and Mack leans on the door frame, smiling down at her. “What’s up, Doc?”

 

Jemma, proud as she is that he’s given her a nickname, forgets for a moment the panic induced by her conversation with Fitz as she scowls up at him. 

 

“We’ve already discussed this, Mack. If anything, my nickname should be ‘Doc Doc’ because I have two PhDs.” 

 

He chuckles under his breath and crosses his arms, raising his eyebrows. “Well, you already shot down ‘No Chill’ Simmons, so you’ll have to make do with Doc. Besides, if you were Doc Doc, everyone would be running around making Doc Doc jokes... You know, Doc Doc, who’s there--” His grin fades and he straightens, reaching one hand out to touch her elbow. “You good?”

 

Jemma gestures with her hands and Mack nods, stepping aside and wordlessly inviting her in. She paces as he shuts the door and then she begins to speak, her fingers anxiously threading through her damp hair.

 

“I’m getting married tonight and I still have no idea what to do for my vows and to make matters worse I just saw Fitz and he actually said his vows were so good that I would want to leave him and marry  _ them  _ which is a bit ridiculous but he’s always been so much better than I at expressing his feelings and I don’t want to--”

 

“Woah, slow down there, Jemma.” Mack reaches out and places a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from pacing. He leads her to his neatly made bed and sits down next to her on the edge. “Take a deep breath, and then talk.”

 

She closes her eyes, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth and trying to channel all her feelings into one coherent sentence.

 

“I’m scared that it won’t be good enough for him,” Jemma whispers, scrunching her face at the words before she dares to meet Mack’s gaze.

 

Mack squeezes her hand and gives her a small smile. “Jemma, there’s nothing you could possibly say to make him love you any less -- or more for that matter, because that’s just not possible.” 

 

“I just want it to be  _ perfect, _ ” she says miserably. 

 

“I know. You’re a perfectionist.” They both laugh and Mack shrugs his shoulders. “But I bet, that whatever you say, and however you choose to say it, so long as you’re speaking from the heart about what Fitz means to you, it  _ will _ be perfect.”

 

Jemma has to blink back a few tears before she responds, sniffling. “That’s very cheesy, Mack.”

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

“Does this mean I can call you ‘Mac and Cheese’?”

 

They erupt into laughter, Mack’s baritone voice almost drowning out her own but somehow instead seeming to amplify it. 

 

“Ugh, you’re worse than Coulson,” he groans. 

 

“I’ll just leave the nicknames to you, then.” 

 

“Look, Doc,” Mack adds quietly when their chuckles have subsided. “You two love each other more than should be humanly possible. We all see it. Every time you look at each other, it’s like -- I don’t know, poetry or something.” Jemma starts to protest but he puts a hand on her shoulder and says firmly, “If you can translate even a fraction of that emotion into words, you’re good to go.” 

 

“Thanks, Mack.” Jemma stands up, giving him a shy smile before she heads for the door.

 

“Jemma, wait. One more thing.” 

 

She turns, hand on the doorknob, to face his crooked smile. “I’m glad you came to me for this. And, uh, try to sneak in a reference to the cosmos, if you can.”

 

Jemma throws back her head and laughs, shaking her head and pointing her pointer finger at him. “Good idea, Mack. Good idea.”

 

She rushes to her room, locks the door and pulls out her computer. Sitting down at the desk, Jemma starts to write, suddenly finding the words and thoughts coming very easily to her, and she can’t help but grin as her fingers fly across the keyboard. 

_ He’s going to love this _ , she thinks.

 

Just a few doors down, Fitz is also smiling to himself, scribbling on a notepad as his mind races ahead.  _ She’s going to love this _ , he thinks.

 

_ I’m going to crush him. _

 

_ She’s going down. _

  
_ Can’t wait _ , they both think. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we are back by (un)popular demand!!


	6. T minus 4 hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jemma receives a phone call, and something goes wrong.
> 
> But then something goes right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'RE BACKKKKKKKKKK

* * *

 

**(2:30)**

After everyone has cleaned up from their morning adventure -- which takes an unsurprisingly long time; they all give Mack flack for the length of his shower in particular -- they all gather back in the kitchen for lunch, the last meal they will share before the wedding.

 

It is only as they begin to clean up, amidst the scraping of chairs and the clattering of plates, that the inn’s land line rings, jangling nearly off the wall.

 

Lincoln, standing nearest, ducks under Joey’s armful of dishes and answers the phone.

 

“Jemma!” he calls, one hand over the mouthpiece. “Call on line one for the bride-to-be! I think it’s your parents.”

 

Everyone goes silent all at once but for a fork tumbling to the floor, and Hunter shifts nervously to whisper into Bobbi’s ear. It’s apparent what he’s asking: the Simmonses should already be underway, should be nearing arrival, in fact. If they are calling, it can only be bad news.

 

“Thank you, Lincoln!” Jemma says cheerily, sweeping over to his side, but Fitz can see, even from here, the worry lines at the corners of her mouth and the way she holds her hands too still, as if fighting their fidgeting.

 

“Everyone out,” May commands. She seizes the cloth napkins from Daisy, who’s just standing there gaping, and tosses them back on the table. “We can clean up when Jemma’s done.”

 

Lincoln shoots Jemma a wordless apology, as if it is his fault for answering the phone and setting into motion whatever it is that is about to happen, and trails out after the others. Fitz lingers until he is the last one: for better or for worse includes dealing with one’s in-laws as well, he presumes. But Jemma smiles, too forcefully, and waves him on.

 

“Mum?” he hears her say as he shuts the door behind him.

 

In the front garden, Daisy, Joey, and Ahmed are holding a conference by the azaleas, Fitz’s mum is feeling up Mack’s biceps, and Elena is quizzing Hunter, whom she seems to think is Scottish, on all of the plant life. He’s making answers up as he goes -- “Ah, that little fuzzy purple one? That’s an engorged Caractile Disfunksion.” -- and Bobbi and Lincoln look too concerned to correct him.

 

They all glance up at Fitz, but he shakes his head and goes to stand by May and Coulson, who are blessedly not talking.

 

Jemma emerges not three minutes later, head ducked a bit. She sees them all clustered and stops with a tearful smile.  

 

“Well, I have some bad news,” she chuckles humorlessly. “My parents won’t be making it tonight.”

 

Everyone talks at once, but Daisy reaches her first, wrapping her in a hug. “Oh, Jemma, I’m so sorry--”

 

Jemma props her chin momentarily on Daisy’s shoulder, blinking rapidly. Fitz is loathe to interrupt them but Daisy notices him hovering beside them and she quickly steps back.

 

“I know, I know,” she sighs, flapping her hands exaggeratedly. “There’s a hierarchy of affections here and Fitz is on top--”

 

“There’s a dirty joke here and I’m not going to say it,” Hunter mutters. Maeve snorts.

 

“What happened?” Fitz asks Jemma quietly.

 

Unbidden, she moves to him, looping her arm around his back and resting her cheek against his shoulder.

 

“Oh, you know them.” Jemma waves a hand and shrugs. She carefully smiles outward, at the others, instead of looking up at Fitz. “Most in-demand surgeons in Sheffield. Someone needed a last-minute heart transplant -- obviously they couldn’t tell them, ‘If you’ll just hang on a tic, our progeny is undergoing an archaic social ritual, we must go--’”

 

She’s gotten better at lying, but Fitz has gotten better at reading her-- something he wouldn’t think possible. And for all her light-hearted mockery of the institution of marriage, he knows she called her parents five minutes after he proposed to tell them, that they were the first people she informed of the wedding date, and that she offered to pay for their train tickets to ensure they could be there.

 

He is angry, furious even, at her parents. There are other heart surgeons in Sheffield and its environs. They should’ve made an effort, they could’ve--

 

But it’s not his place to say. And it’s certainly not what Jemma needs right now.

 

It’s hard to see her this way. On today of all days, too. She’s pressed against his side quietly and looking down at the ground, fidgeting with the engagement ring on her finger. Uncertainty and disappointment and all the things Jemma Simmons should never feel radiate from her body and hit him in waves.

 

He wishes he could share some of the pain.

.

He has to settle for reaching for her hand and holding it tight.

 

“Jemma, dear,” his mother hesitantly begins, her voice soft and full of worry. “What are you thinking?”

 

“I’m thinking…” Jemma draws out, sounding like she might burst into tears and it’s enough to break his heart. “I’m thinking that I love my parents, and I obviously want them to be here, at my wedding. And I understand why they can’t, but now I’ve just realized that I don’t have anyone to walk me down the aisle.”

 

Everyone is quiet, and then as if they are of one mind, all eyes slowly and suddenly turn from Jemma towards May and Coulson.

 

Jemma flushes at the implication and stammers, “I-- I  mean, I don’t _need_ anyone to walk me down the aisle. It symbolizes that I’m nothing but property to be handed over to my future husband which is ridiculous and patriarchal--”

 

“I don’t know about Coulson,” May interrupts. “And I don’t know if it’s a win for the patriarchy, but I would be honored to walk with you tonight, Jemma.”

 

“Took the words right out of my mouth, Melinda,” Coulson manages to say, his smile wavering a bit.

 

“Is that okay?” May asks.

 

Fitz glances anxiously down at Jemma and is surprised to see her beaming.

 

“It’s perfect,” Jemma concludes.

 

Hunter suddenly stands up, complaining about pollen in his eyes, and bolts towards the house.


End file.
